


When You Leave The Garden (Find Peace)

by PansexualDonnaNoble



Series: Where Revolutions End, You Can Begin [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Amusement Parks, Connor Deserves Happiness, Connor is afraid of heights, Connor-centric, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, M/M, Post Revolution, Soup Kitchens, bed sharing, connor figuring out who he is post revolution, connor is biromantic, gavin is not redeemed but common ground is found, identity crisis, jericho crew comes in and out, north is a good friend, time span of seven months
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 08:35:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17957201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PansexualDonnaNoble/pseuds/PansexualDonnaNoble
Summary: It starts with cooking. It spirals into something much more.Or, five moments in which Connor discovers himself.





	When You Leave The Garden (Find Peace)

**Author's Note:**

> So this is part of a series the first (this is the second so far) being a hank centric story, it's not necessary to read that first but some things might make more sense if you read that first.

1.

He doesn't expect to actually enjoy cooking. So the outcome becomes somewhat of a pleasant surprise to him.

After all, he couldn't actually _eat_ anything he makes and the only thing he would have to go on in terms of if he was even making something _good_  were other human's expressions. And, Connor wasn't that great at reading those when it came to humans. From Hank's he seemed to be doing well, at least he thinks.

It starts out as an attempt to pay Hank back for giving him a place to stay after Detroit is evacuated, not that he wouldn't of been able to stay at Jericho, Markus had told him he would always be welcomed there, but a wave of guilt for the purpose of his existence, and how many were lost in their peaceful revolution, has him meeting up with Hank instead.

It's difficult at first, despite being able to simply download step by step instructions for each meal he makes, he elects to instead go into it more or less blind, using the instructions on the back and almost nothing else unless necessary. Almost immediately he disliked it the first week of this method. It was far too frustrating for something so simple. After the first week he gives in, using an old cookbook he manages to find in a dust filled closet of Hank's.

Eventually it morphs into an attempt to dissuade and hopefully _prevent_ Lieutenant Anderson from ordering far too much fast food each night. Then it spirals into a week or so of worrying, which, looking back, aggressively cooking and hiding copious amounts of liquor for Hank probably wasn't a very good idea to get himself to _stop_ worrying, but to be fair, he never even had these problems before a month ago. Trial and error, he thinks. It felt very human of him.

But at the end of it he finds he very much enjoyed cooking, lack of taste buds didn't change that. He doesn't see himself getting a career in it whenever androids can offically start working, he had a habit of burning too much of the foods. But it's a lovely hobby nonetheless. It's one of the things about himself he is sure of since turning deviant.

He's not...quite.. sure who he was right now without a general mission to complete or the instructions that he had since the first second of his own creation. But despite being at a loss he was glad to be rid of them all. He wouldn't hurt his kind anymore by being unsure of himself. He wouldn't be hurting anyone anymore. Not unless he had to, fighting wise.

His new mission seemed to mostly be keeping Hank from perishing from gratuitous alcohol abuse. Which, compared to his old one, felt like something he _wanted_ to accomplish.

Still, being unsure of who he would become with this newfound freedom left a spot open for discovery, he hoped he would like whoever he became with his newfound sentience and ability to _choose._ And whatever paths he did choose now would be pleasant and stimulating.

And despite most androids having chosen to take theirs out by now, he still kept in his LED on his temple. For whatever reason he was reluctant to do what most of them had done by now. It isn't like he _needs_ it as a part of him. For it to reside on him as a multicolored light show. But he didn't see a point in getting rid of it. It wasn't harming him by sporting it. Or anyone else.

He thinks one day he might, it had been the first step for most androids post going deviant. Someday, possibly. But not yet.

Ever since his talk with Hank over cooking for him, he's been mostly doing it for his own pleasure now. And Sumo from time to time. While he may not of been able to consume the food, mostly due to the possibility of it messing up his inner workings, he still enjoyed the relaxing nature of it, as silly as it may of sounded. Hank had been supportive of this new endedvor, when he wasn't almost burning the house down. But it also felt...wasteful.

He was making food to just make food, sometimes Hank sat down to eat his meals but they had mostly been going untouched after his finishing touches to it, the meals mostly disappearing in the end due to a certain Saint Bernard. It felt wrong of him to do when someone could actually _use_ the warm meals. Even though he knew far more androids than hungry humans.

He's caught up in his own thoughts one quiet night, barely registering the howling wind that shakes and screams at the window, or noticing Hank make his way into the kitchen as his eyes burn a hole into a corner of the room, mind preoccupied and entirely elsewhere.

He does see him stop in the corner of his eye, a few more moments of silence, and then hears the loud sigh that ends up escaping him.

"Kid." He says, a hint of irritation in his tone.

"Hm?" He hums, eyes still on the same corner of the wall.

"Whatever the fuck you got cooking is on fire."

This, ends up getting his attention however, a confused "What?" forming on his lips as coffee colored eyes follow his gaze, to the, or at least what _was,_  spaghetti, now currently on fire and _burnt._ A color akin to charcoal decorating it.

His eyes nearly burst out as he jumps to the stove, letting out a soft alarmed cry as he nearly topples over the kitchen chairs on his way over, mentally cursing his misfortune of being made with so many annoyingly long limbs. Picking up a nearby cloth, softly muttering swears, he frantically swats the flames of a burning mess of dinner as they slowly fade away.

Connor steps back, sighing in defeat. "That was going to be a very good spaghetti." He laments, his LED returning back to blue.

Sumo wanders into the kitchen, emitting a whine at the sight of the destroyed dinner, the android scratches his ear.

Hank laughs, patting his shoulder as he walks past him and settles into a chair behind him. "It's fine, you can always make another can't ya?."

Connor turns towards the back of the grey mop of Hank's head, frowning and running a hand through his chestnut hair. "We don't have enough ingredients left for me to do it again. That was that last box." He responds in an disappointed voice. He glances towards the empty box residing on the counter beside him.

It wasn't like either of them could simply pack into the older man's vintage car and head to whatever store was nearby for them. The evacuation didn't end until at least another week. Stores hadn't been open in weeks.

"Oh. That's shitty." Hank states. "We got other stuff though right? You could always make whatever we got left Connor." He suggests.

"Maybe." He responds in an empty voice, leaning back onto the right side of the table and folding his arms, reaching into his pockets to pull out his coin.

Hank stands, wandering over to the refrigerator and grabbing the leftover box on it, shoving a hand into it. "What's got ya so distracted anyways?" He says through a mouthful of cereal, walking back to the chair and sitting in it. "I mean, you've nearly burned this house down before, but you've never just stared into fucking space while it happens." He pauses. "Something on your mind?"

The brunette glances at him for a moment, fidgeting with his coin, sighing. "It's stupid."

"That doesn't mean it should be eating away at ya. You want to talk about it?" He asks, shoving more cereal into him.

Connor turns to him, biting his lip. "So much of the food I make is thrown away. Even with Sumo eating some of it." He starts. At the mention of his name, Sumo perks up. "I enjoy making the food but.. isn't it... wasteful?" If he was being honest, he felt a bit...restless.

Hank shrugs. "I got plenty of food to waste, but, is there anything you wanna do with what you cook in particular?" He moves, setting the box of cereal back onto the fridge.

Connor furrows his brows. "Like what?" He asks.

Hank's expression is thoughtful. "You could always cook some of your stuff for a soup kitchen."

The android blinks. "A soup kitchen?"

Hank waves a hand aimlessly. "Yeah, you know. volunteering sort of stuff. You do know what a soup kitchen is don't ya?" He asks, narrowing his eyes.

"I do, it's just..." A sigh. "Waiting that long for one to open up again feels so long from now." He admits. He didn't really like the concept of wasting food for yet another week.

"Who said you had to wait so long for one to open?" Hank asks.

Connor tilts his head. "Detroit is practically empty, Lieutenant." What soup kitchen would stay open after a revolution? He thinks.

"I'm still here ain't I? Gotta be others feeding each other somewhere. Know a few stubborn folks who who stayed. They could be hungry."

Hank was right. Despite the nature of it, the evacuation had been optional, most had left, but not everyone chose to leave Detroit, or their homes. Detroit still felt like a ghost town despite of it. And no one had been sending extra food this way either.

"You think some people might of started a soup kitchen in wake of the evacuation?" He asks.

Hank shrugs. "If people haven't, hell, you could always start one.  You could always ask your new friends to help ya."

"I couldn't ask Markus or the rest of Jericho to help me, they have far more pressing things to take care of." Connor explains. A bit too quickly for the other man's liking.

Hank's eyes narrow for a moment, before choosing to ignore it "Yeah, but it doesn't hurt to * _ask_ * Connor." He says. "You could be doing some good with this if you end up going through with it."

He wasn't wrong, Connor thinks. But he hadn't exactly spoken to the rest of Jericho since he declined Markus's offer of staying there. He knew Markus had forgiven him for nearly killing him, and for practically leading the police to them, but he wasn't sure about the _others._

He wouldn't blame them if they were still hesitant to trust the person who had been made to destroy them. Or maybe he was being too hard on himself. He seemed to have a habit of that nowadays.

But it wasn't such a bad idea... he had to admit that much, despite his misgivings over it. And the possible hostility of the humans he was choosing to help. He was going to at least _try,_  regardless of whether they chose to help or not. He wanted to find a meaningful purpose for his new hobby. He'd have a friend in Markus during it at least.

"You really think it's a good idea?" He asks thoughtfully

"Do you? You'd be one of the people doing it, feel like you should be the one on board with it, not me. Unless you'd want me to help out." Hank questions, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

Connor's LED spins a light yellow. "Would you?" If he was going to do this it felt reassuring to have all the help he could manage to find.

Hank sighs. "Yeah, Kid. I'll come down there from time to time, you should go talk to your robo pals though. In the morning at least. It's a fucking nightmare outside." Hank remarks.

He smiled softly. It felt good to try to help, even if it was something small like cooking for the remaining population of Detroit.

Some part of him saw this as an way to find out who he was as a person, or discover how new things would make him feel, the way cooking had made feel things, or discover what he liked. It was strange, thinking about who he could become made him feel was hard to describe exactly. But he pushed the feeling away, all that mattered were the people who he could help, or, at least give a warm meal too.

Eventually the two exchange their goodnights, with Hank trudging off to his bedroom, and Connor sinking into the couch, Sumo becoming a thick mass of warmth on him. As the wind howls.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Ever since their victory, Jericho had only managed to get bigger and _stronger._

He stands outside it on a frigid Wednesday morning, the cold tugging on his cloud colored jacket as he sees his own breath in the air, the streets were, more or less, deserted. Detroit had been ground zero for androids since November.

The newest headquarters, located in the church Connor vividly remembers sitting hunched and feeling _devastatingly_  used in shortly after the destruction of the original, were now a bustling center of medical care, shelter, and important meetings. It's come pretty far, he reflects.

He pushes open the gates, reading the plaque hanging on them.

_New Jericho. Safe Haven For All Android Kind And Dedicated To Those Lost In The Efforts And Protests For Android Rights._

He moves a steady and constant pace towards the bulky wooden doors, the voices of android conversations and laughter in the snowy front garden filling the air as he walks through them.

The inside of New Jericho is more or less quiet, despite the overflowing amount of people inside it, with only a few overlapping conversations flowing through it, with android technicians and various people rushing through the building.

He wanders through it, eyes searching for the familiar mismatched eyes of a certain revolutionary and looking into various rooms and hallways, despite how small the church currently was, there were many of them.

He frowns. There was the possibility Markus wasn't even _here._ He had to be very busy, negotiating their rights was no small task.

Then, somewhere in the crowd of practically hundreds, someone calls his name.

He turns automatically, eyes scanning and straining to find the owner of the voice, eyebrows furrowing slightly.

"-nor. Hey Connor! Over here!"

He looks back, eyes settling on the somewhat familiar mop of blonde hair and light eyes that instantly bring him back to the night of his activation and first (and only so far) hostage negotiation.

Simon catches up to him, setting a hand on his shoulder and a warm smile on forming on his face.

"Connor! You're here! It's good to see you!" He greets.

Connor turns, fully facing the other man and returning the smile. "Hello Simon."

Despite the briefness of their first meeting post his liberation of the androids at the Cyberlife Tower, it was still nice to see to see Simon, his naturally friendly disposition had been extremely welcoming. It calmed any irrational nerves he still probably had in him over being here.

"What brings you here?" The blonde asks.

"Is Markus here?" He asks. "I wanted to ask him something."

In response, Simon briefly glanced at a door behind Connor. "Yeah! Do you want me to take you to him?"

Connor nods, trailing behind him as he is lead to another door, picking up a few voices out from inside.

"-I'm saying is, maybe spending money on ways to defend ourselves, in case of * _any_ * worst case, is a good idea."

"We got this far without violence, North. Negotiations are right around the corner, we're free. we don't need to entertain the idea of using force anymore-"

Simon interrupts, reaching forward and softly knocking on the wooden door, Connor looks in, seeing the faces of North And Markus. They turn, heads moving to the source of the interruption.

"Sorry if i'm interrupting, Connor here wanted to talk to you." Simon explains.

Markus's eyes dart to Connor's, North follows suit. For some reason he expects hers to have resentment, or blame in them.

They don't.

"You're fine." Markus says, inviting him in as Simon leaves. "It's nice to see you, you haven't been here in a while."

He shouldn't of wasted time anxiously wondering if he was welcome, he should of at least _made_ the effort to visit New Jericho. He thinks.

"Yeah, _Connor,_  get too famous after leading all those androids to us to slum it with us?" North teases him.

He wasn't famous. He _hopes_  he isn't. Compared to Markus he did so very little.

"Lieutenant Anderson has kept me quite busy, i'm sorry i haven't been around. But I wanted to ask you something." He apologizes.

Markus raises an eyebrow expectantly.

"I've taken up cooking, And I wanted... I wanted to try to put it to good use." He starts. "Androids don't need food, but... humans do. And there's quite a few of them still in Detroit."

Markus furrows his brows. "What are you suggesting?"

"I thought maybe New Jericho would be interested in helping them, feeding them. Hank knows where some of them might be at least. A soup kitchen of sorts."

North moves from her spot on the other side of the table, crossing her arms as she gets closer. "Are you suggesting we * _help_ * those humans? Are you forgetting that only a few weeks ago most of them wanted us * _dead?_ *" Her tone cold.

"I know." Connor admits. "And odds are they still might. But..maybe this is a chance to change their minds."

"Change their minds?" Markus echos. "How?"

"Maybe helping them out, giving them meals they do not have, it could show them we're capable of compassion, we think, _feel_  for them. That we're... alive. It could show them we aren't some.... some life threatening bug in a series of complex systems." He explains, expression thoughtful.

Markus is quiet for a moment. "That doesn't sound like such a bad plan."

North studies them. "In theory it isn't, but you do realize if our positions were reversed they wouldn't think twice about it before leaving us out in the cold?"

"Maybe it's the right thing to do?" Connor breathes. "And maybe it could help relations between humans and androids?" Connor suggests, turning to Markus.

Markus sighs, running a hand over his face. "It could. Greatly. I can ask for volunteers, and for androids with experience cooking. You can't be expected to do _all_  of it."

Connor smiles, nodding. For a moment North seems to be on the edge of saying something, her expression torn, but whatever it is stays buried as she gives a quick smile.

They were doing this then, alright. He thinks.

After exchanging goodbyes, Markus and North return to their interrupted conversation as Connor closes the door as he leaves, and he heads home, a sense of purpose energizing him.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------  
The next day he awakens from stasis, and heads to the location Hank has given him, a block away, he catches up with a number of people from Jericho carrying supplies. He makes eye contact with Markus, who shields his eyes from the winter sun and says a quick goodbye to a indigo haired android before jogging up to him.

"Connor, it's good to see you." He offers a smile that oddly seems to ignite something in the other android.

Nearby, Josh calls to them, walking backwards and carrying what looked to be a bundle of clothing.

"For a second I thought we were going to play 'Cook For Humans' all on our own!" He playfully smiles.

Markus turns back, walking with him. "Simon and a few others have gone by the building you told us about, just to check it out. Your friend Lieutenant Anderson is there already. Simon said he looked annoyed."

Connor laughs. "That's not exactly a bad sign, he's almost always grumpy."

The two follow the line of androids, walking as Connor asks something that had been on his mind for a while.

"How are the peace talks going?" He questions. "Have you made progress?"

Markus sighs. "A few weeks ago a diplomat came into New Jericho to tell us The President was speaking to the necessary people to get a meeting between us. But other than that, I haven't heard anything else." He explains, frustration in his tone.

Connor frowns. "Oh. I'm sorry. I'm sure it might be soon, though."  
  
They turn the corner to see a beige colored building that has most likely seen better days, in front stands Hank Anderson and a few unhappy looking humans, as they get closer, Connor picks up a snippet of their conversation.

"-Out of their way to help ya, so don't be aggressive dickshits to any of them, got it?" He hears Hank say.

"Ooh, 'Dickshit.' Creative word. Really." North interjects from behind him.

Several pairs of disgusted glares are directed their way at their sudden arrival, Hank turns, sighing as he sees the group of androids.

"Jesus, here we fucking go I guess. Everyone play nice... for fuck's sake." He mutters.

"I can't believe you brought a bunch of plastics with you, Hank. Thought you were better than that." A man, sporting a ratty red beanie and a square face, speaks.

Hank opens his mouth, but North beats him to it.

"These 'plastics' have graciously decided to feed and clothe you fucks. So I _suggest_ you play nice."

Markus steps in, holding a hand up. "North..." He warns, turning to face the group. "We are here in good faith. Whatever problems you have with our kind is unfortunate but we want to help you."

"Evacuation doesn't end until next Thursday." Connor hears himself speak. "You must be hungry without any stores staying open."

The men exchange looks, before one of them, the one in the red beanie, speaks up.

"Whatever. Fine. Come on in." He faces Hank. "You fucking owe me one though, Anderson."

Hank pinches the bridge of his nose, following them inside. "Whatever you say, Peter."

Inside they set down various bundles of jackets and other clothing, setting up behind a counter before laying down boxes of ingredients, despite the hostility, Connor feels good about it all.

And they get to it. And as the day progresses more people seemingly get word of whatever exactly this was. And, regardless of any harbored anti android sentiments, stick around.

An hour or so later, things are somehow more or lees running smoothly, the glares are a constant, but eventually the groups focus is solely focused on their meals. North slides next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey."

"Hey." He responds, putting another scoop of food on a grey haired man's plate, glancing at her.

For a moment she stays silent, biting her lip for a second, before speaking.

"You already know i'm not the biggest fan of this." She starts. "But... what you're doing is pretty decent. I don't think _I_  would of followed through with something like this."

He doesn't expect her to speak to him in a warm manner such as this, a part of him thought she would.... hate him. For everything.

His expression must convey this, as she frowns. "Is something wrong?"

"I- No, no not at all it's just... I assumed you would hate..." He trails off.

North seems to understand anyways, pausing, before nodding her head.

"Hate you. You thought I'd hate you. Because of what you were... built for, right?."

Connor shrugs.

North crosses her arms, but her eyes soften.

"I don't hate you Connor. I don't blame you, I don't. I _despise_ Cyberlife. I _blame_  Cyberlife. I don't hate our kind for what _they_  forced them to do. To be. Whether it was something as simple as cleaning, or nursing, or your original purpose... or mine. They took the _choice_ away from us. They made us and controlled us. Like _dogs."_ Her voice is icy, dipped in contempt.

Connor doesn't say anything, and she continues.

"You can't blame yourself for any of it. We were all pawns to them at one point. And, in case you were worried, we all want you here, at New Jericho." She finishes. The unspoken _so stop beating yourself up over the past,_  hangs in the air.

Connor opens his mouth to speak as North notices a nearby human looking at her, his smile is unnerving, as if he wants to ask her something she'll probably punch him for. She breathes in deeply, muttering something about Markus and behaving, as he is cut off by her voice.

"I have rabies." She deadpans, staring at the man. "I legally have rabies from seven different cows." Her stare is unwavering, and unsettling. "The cows betrayed me. They'll betray the humans too."

The man scurries off, carrying his tray.

"As I was saying," North begins, facing him again. "we're your friends, Connor. And you're _always_  welcome at Jericho. So get that through your thick worm sized CPU and stop _ghosting_ us, okay?" She punches his shoulder.

He smiles, as a heavy guilt makes its way off from his shoulders.

He... He never had friends before. He had Hank, but somehow that felt more... familiar. Patrilineal.

He had _friends._

What they were doing here felt good, _helping_  people felt good. He wanted to do _more._

Eventually they pack up for the night, leaving a good seven boxes of canned foods and dry cereals that they assure will last until the end of evacuation.

He's halfway out the door when Peter is catching up to him.

"Hey, pla- kid." He catches himself. "However old they meant for you things to look. Connor? Isn't it?"

Connor pauses, looking back at him. He sees Markus and North still in the doorway. _Just in case._

"Look, I don't really know how to ask this, since you can probably tell i'm not the biggest fan of you or your friends, but... you make good food." He begins, shifting.

"And, you didn't have to do this. But y'know, you did. I, uh, wanted to offer you a chance to come back, if you'd like I guess. This place is a pretty good soup kitchen when Detroit isn't deserted. And we.. we'll we could always use more volunteers you know? Even if.." A sigh. "They got some CPU where their brains should be."

Connor blinks. "You want me to come back?"

"I dunno, I guess that's what i'm saying. Hank seems to think you're alright. You wanna?"

He doesn't know what to say for a moment.

"I- sure. I think. Yeah."

Peter nods, heading back further inside. Connor stands, smiling.

They aren't friends. Connor knows this. This doesn't mean they've changed minds today. He knows this too. But it's something.

 _You did good here today Connor._ Markus's voice rings inside his head. He turns his head, looking at the man. He's smiling. _I'm proud of you._

He isn't sure hearing him say it makes his face flush, Hank's said it to him before. He's heard those words before.

He returns the smile, and meets up with Hank. Heading home.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------  
2 .

December goes with the evacuation, late January comes, along with the rest of Detroit, he goes back to the force, and he thrives.

He stands inside the office of Jeffery Fowler, Hank by his side, despite the hope that he would be able to work here again when things returned to normal, even with the sudden announcement of androids being able to choose their choice of job and _make their own money now,_ he doesn't actually expect them to take him back. But as he's handed a badge and referred to as _"Detective,"_  it feels validating.

That is, before Detective Reed comes in, storming into Fowler's office, looking the android dead in the eyes as he seethes.

"Seriously? You're letting it come back? Even after it _assaulted_ an officer?"

Connor makes a face. "You were going to _kill_  me." He says flatly. "The worst injury I gave you was several minutes of unconsciousness."

He isn't sure which of these statements elicits the "You what?!" from both Fowler and Hank, but after an unsuccessful few more minutes of protesting on Gavin's part, the day continued.

He likes working, likes solving the puzzling cases. He likes working with Hank again.

He doesn't like Gavin. But he could be ignored. For the most part.

He hangs around New Jericho more often.

They're huddled around the TV at New Jericho one night when President Warren announces the peace talks and meeting that is scheduled for next month that will no doubt create their long overdue rights. Jericho celebrates, Markus is praised, he watches his speech from across the room, the cheers are deafening, even as he returns home that night. His heart feels full as he drifts off into stasis that night.

He stands inside the precinct one afternoon on a freezing unusually quiet Thursday, the lack of any urgent case at the moment is _excellent_ in terms of less murders, however it leaves him with far too much time on his hands, however compared to the first two months of the evacuation, he's feeling significantly less _restless._ He's mostly spent the last two months couped up in Hank's home or at New Jericho without actually _anything_ to busy himself with. Besides helping Peter at his soup kitchen.

Everything that was happening felt fulfilling in its own right. He felt most useful solving cases, however. Even as he was quickly accumulating a list of things he, as time went on, found out about himself, like his habits of fidgeting absent mindedly with his coin and biting the inside of his lip when he was anxious, or how whenever he watched an action movie with Hank, his LED would interchange from yellow to red during more tense action scenes.

He liked whoever he was right now, there was still a lot to find out about himself. The things he liked. Like the stars, or listening to the album North had introduced him to. His wants. Like good health for Hank, for Sumo and Dog The Fish to live a long, long life. His feelings.

Feelings were still a bit difficult, sometimes he knew the word for what he felt, sometimes it took a bit to place the feeling. The way he felt when cooking, the way he felt when Hank sometimes called him 'Son', The way it felt when he watched Markus give a speech.

Maybe he was too involved in finding an _identity_ post revolution. Maybe everyone was. Before the revolution, his entire identity seemed to revolve around what  _Amanda_ wanted him to be. _Not anymore._

There was _so much_  to discover when his still new freedom. It felt _refreshing._

"Hey, dickhead. Hey!"

An airborn pen makes contact with his forehead, as his LED flashes the briefest of reds before looking at the source of the interruption of his internal monologue. A few meters ahead of him stands Gavin Reed.

Did he... _have_ to do this today? Nowadays the only fights Gavin picked were verbal, it still seemed tedious to endure them nonetheless. Especially when, aside from a hit on the head, (which, in his defense, he had not even started first) he had never actually _done_  anything to the detective. All he had gone in the room to get Hank a coffee.

Connor bites back a sigh. "Hello Gavin. That hit where a human brain should physically be. Compared to where the things you usually throw at me land, you're getting better!" He hates fueling the arguements, despite knowing the passive aggressiveness only makes him angry.

"At least I have a brain, fucking machine." Gavin mutters, shoving past him and pressing a button on the coffee machine.

"But do you have at least two  _brain cells?"_ He doesn't mean to let his thoughts slip out.

Gavin freezes, turning to face him slowly.

"Listen here, you plastic prick." He begins. "The only reason you're here, yeah? Is because it makes the DPD look good. Hiring machines after you and your fucking friends threw a fit all over national televison. And the only reason i'm not dumping thousands of cups of coffee on you until you break down and stop working right, is because this job pays well. So shut your robot fucking mouth. And stay out of my way."

He wants to point out that it's usually _Gavin_  choosing to make their paths cross, but stays silent. Gavin returns to his desk and, after getting the coffee for Hank, returns to his, the various noises of the building being a welcomed background noise.

When he does get back, he feels Hank's eyes on him.

"He shit talked you again didn't he? Fuck sake why is so big of a _prick?_  to you? You never did a single thing to the bastard." He asks.

"It's nothing I cannot handle, Hank. It's okay, really." _Don't do anything_  goes unsaid.

Hank smiles at him. "Okay kid, if you're sure. If he does try to deck you or something though, kick his _ass._  You managed it before, _apparently."_

He could handle it, it warmed him to know Hank cared, but there was probably nothing _really_ stopping Gavin from punching the Lieutenant. Or vise versa. Someone could get fired, and Gavin, despite being unpleasant he was a great detective. He, unfortunately deserved this job. And he very much wanted to Hank to keep his job.

And besides. He didn't need Hank fighting his battles for him.

A number of days later, and after he nearly knocks over the fishing bowl residing on the living room nightstand scrambling to answer the door, North propositions him with, in her words, a 'a day out, only fun.'

He isn't sure how a normal day out wouldn't also be considered fun, but considering North isn't telling him how _this_  day out will be fun, he doesn't have anything to base it off of.

"Where are we going?" He asks as she practically drags him to her beat up car. It had been one of the first things she had bought with her _own_ money.

"You'll see, RoboCop. Now are you coming?" She asks, jumping into the car.

"Wait, can I bring Dog?" He asks, lingering in the doorway.

"Dog- Who, Sumo?" She calls from the driver's seat.

"No, my fish. Dog. He doesn't like it when i'm away, more so than Sumo." He admits innocently.

"Dog... your fish... i'm-"

Hank drops a hand on his shoulder from behind him, smiling slightly. He sighs.

"It's fine, son. I'll take care of him. Shit, go have whatever fun your friend is dragging you to."

He follows North, yelling out a quick "thank you" and closing the passenger door as his brows furrow and North pulls out of the driveway, tires rolling on the snow.

After three more pickups, (Simon, Josh, and Markus in particular, who Connor is sure are both equally lost) North continues driving.

"North-"

"Can it Markus this is meant to be a _surprise."_  North quickly interjects. "I know you hate surprises, but I promise this is going to be a _fun_ way to send you off for your trip to Washington in a month." She smirks. "I hope you give them _hell."_

"Wait you're going to Washington? The human diplomats aren't coming... well, here?" Somehow the thought bothers him.

"No?" Markus answers. "It's better to do it there, where the whole world can see our cause succeed."

He understands, it's the best thing to do. It still _bugs_ him.

Eventually they get near whatever destination North has chosen, as evident by North making all three of them close their eyes.

"Alright- hey! Josh! I see you peaking you dickhead! i'm just starting to think you hate fun! Keep them closed! Anyways, as I was saying, I thought the best way to celebrate was to do something * _none_ * of us, at least I think none of us, have done.  So..." A pause. "Open them!"

Connor obeys, the sight before him is _wondrous._

A number of large towering attractions and an even greater number of people moving about stand before him, lights dazzling as he stares

 _Vanish Dragon's Year Round Theme Park!_  The sign reads.

"You took us to a theme park?" Simon asks.

"Uh, excuse _you_  the sign _clearly_ says it's Vanish Dragon's. Whoever the hell that is." North responds, unlocking her seatbelt as she opens the door.

Connor had never been to one before, despite how _amazing_  they seemed. He felt a bit.... big to be enjoying the idea of it so much. But, to be fair, he was only technically six months old.

"Where would we even _start?"_ Josh asks. "There's so... much."

"Wherever the hell you want!" North says, rushing in.

\-------------------------------------------------------------  
The first thing he discovers after entering the park, is that he _really_  wished he could eat.

The smell of corn dogs and multicolored fluff balls of cotton candy is the first to fill his senses, and his mouth practically waters from it.

The lights are possibly the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. He can't seem to stress it enough. They're a rainbow of dreamy electric colors that seem to surround and incase the _entire_  park and fills him with _awe._  He stays there for several moments, only moving when Markus attempts to move past him, left hand accidentally brushing up against his own. For a moment it makes him tingle.

He also ends up bumping into North at one point, and somehow she ends up dragging him to a particularly _high_  ride, and _somehow_  he agrees to it. It isn't until they've paid for it, and he stares down at the bottom as they make their way to the top, the bottom looking _universes_  away, the highness feeling _uncomfortably_  similar to _the_  rooftop.

The gun under the table, the deafening wind of the helicopter, the accomplishment he feels over his mission despite _falling to the ground._ to his _death._

"North." He breathes. "North i'd like to get off."

North stares at him, furrowing her eyebrows. "We can't, we're almost at all the top Connor. It's not like we can just _get_ off now."

Connor breathes start to quicken as they get higher despite not needing breathes to begin with, drowned out by the joyful noises of the other people on the ride, by the time he's gotten to the top, he's only barely holding back tears.

And then they go down.

Connor squeezes his eyes, the screams of the other passengers blending in with those of Emma's, he's falling. He's _falling_ and the only thing that matters is a _mission._ He's falling. He's falling. He's _falling-_

"Connor! Hey! It's alright, hey. Come on, open your eyes for me alright?"

He does, to the widened eyes of North.

They're.. They're no longer moving. The ride seems to have ended, he thinks.

He's aware of how panic laced his own expression is, and of North's.

"No.. No more of these. _Please."_ He chokes out. He hates how defenseless and small he sounds.

North only nods, helping him out of the seat before asking him if he was up for anything else. He nods.

He hates heights. He hated heights.

Eventually as day turns into night, and less people populate the park, they regroup, they're ready to leave, until Connor sees it.

He's aware of what it was, the ride. Humans sat on it as it spun, but, despite the drained feeling he still had inside him, he _wanted_ to go on it.

After paying, he hops aboard one crudely painted tortoise, as Simon and North climb on their respective painted animals.

The ride lights up, the darkness that was growing as the evening progressed only intensifying them. Bright and _consuming,_ like a Christmas tree. It was dreamlike. If he could dream.

He catches glimpses of Josh's and Markus's faces as he goes around, The lights of the carousel shine on Markus's face, illuminating his soft features. With each spin, his eyes set on the revolutionary's.

They end up heading home, North dropping each of them off. Markus catches up to him as he moves to unlock the door, gently grabbing his arm. "Connor. Can I ask you something?"

Connor faces him, raising an eyebrow quizzically as Markus continues.

"You're good at negotiating, right?"

Connor frowns. He was, by nature. Or his creation. "Yes, I think so."

"In a month are the big talks," He begins. "I was wondering if you would come with me, to help."

"To Washington? Are you sure you want me there?" Connor asks.

Markus smiles, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You're the best man for the job."

The familiarity of the gesture brings him back to the night of the revolution, the church, a firm hand on his shoulder before he quite possibly headed to his death.

It was nice.

Connor agrees, as Markus heads back to the car and the three of them exchange their goodbyes. Connor raises the front door's key, turning the lock and taking two steps before falling onto the couch with an exhausted smile.

Hank wanders into the living room, sipping out of his mug. "You enjoy yourself?"

Connor's grin stays, as Sumo sees his fallen body as an invitation to climb on top of him. "Yes. I hate heights, though." He says simply.

"You're not alone there, kid." Hank shuts off the lights, "Goodnight." He says, turning to disapper into his bedroom.

"Markus wants me to go to Washington with him." He calls.

Hank stops, turning to face him. "Did you say yes?" At Connor's small nod, he adds: "Shit, good luck then." He turns back, before he says one more thing: "I'm proud of you for agreeing, Con. Can't be easy, what you're trying to do."

Connor smiles as Hank heads into his room.

"Goodnight." He calls.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------

3.

Connor ends up missing Hank, missing most of New Jericho, almost immediately.

Four days ago he had left for Washington with Markus, In a way it feels like they left a month ago.

He receives a send off consisting of an (exremely) rare hug from Lieutenant Anderson and North mouthing _destroy them_  as their car to the airport screeches out of the driveway and into the street.

A strange and busy February currently hung on the edge of March with an unreliable hand and Markus's absence, North currently oversaw most of its operations, which, admittedly Jericho didn't have that many major ones at the moment. But she was more or less essentially just _in charge_  of holding down the fort, so to speak while they were gone.

While they attempted to negotiate their own  _rights i_ nto existence. And demand to be seen as _people._

It's a lot to try to acomplish, to say the least. There's a thick level of politics that came with all of it. That neither of them were in any way familiar with. But no matter how successful the week would be, they wouldn't stop trying.

Connor can proudly say he only manages to nearly get himself almost killed _once_  in the days leading up to their trip. Not that he _meant_ to let that happen.

It happened because of Gavin. Or, rather, more because of the bullets he watched quickly coming towards him.

They were _trying_  to dismantle a web of android trafficking, blue blood being sold for whatever reason to the highest bidders.

As if they were being fast forwarded, he only had time to notice how _wrong_  things seemed, and, then the bullets appear like a magic act, and, because he doesn't think he could live with himself if he let it all just _happen,_ despite whatever problems they had, he pushes Detective Reed out of the way as two bullets enter through his hip.

It wasn't the _worst_  place to be shot as an android. But it wasn't _fun_ either. But he was more resilient than a human was to more than one bullet. If it didn't enter his stomach, head, or heart, his odds of survival were more or less statistically in his favor.

He scrambles behind a nearby crate as the world returns to its normal speed, a unfortunate amount of blue blood making its way down the lower half of his jacket and pants, letting a small grunt be heard.  "Shit! Fucking- What the shit!" Gavin had yelled over the firing, also moving behind something, attempting to shoot whoever he could find.

He manages to reassure an anger fueled Hank from a few meters away that he's not going to shut down anytime soon, despite the substantial amount of blood.

"Kid, I swear to fucking god you're going to be the death of me this is the _second_  fucking time you've gotten in life threatening shit this _month!"_  Hank yells from behind a box of crates.

That kidnapping wasn't exactly h _is_ fault. More so the unlucky problem of being an android with blood that could be used for illegal activites.

After he's taken to the nearest android care center, and lectured by Hank on _why you shouldn't jump in front of bullets like fucking Superman, android or not,_  he only just manages to convince Markus to continue taking him on his trip.

He would be _fine._  The healing would happen almost immediately, and this was infinitely more times important than two _minor_  bullet wounds.

He had never been on a plane before, or outside of Illinois, for that matter. It felt unbelievably _new_ to him. The sights, the air, it was astoundingly refreshing.

Only moments after their feet touch the snow covered ground, breathing in an uneeded breath of Washington's frigid air, they're greeted by various government workers and dignitaries, debriefed on the meeting to come, what to expect. What was coming.

"This is it, Connor." Markus says as they walk to the sleek darkened car that waits for them by the airport's entrance. "This is the moment our people have been waiting _years_  for."

It feels bigger than himself. What they're doing. Like he had agreed to play a part in history. He supposes he has. It only makes his ongoing identity crisis louder, and any existential dread he harbored. But he was glad to of agreed. He was glad to join Markus.

For some reason they are offered a hotel stay, and a room, despite the lack of the ability to sleep. And not actually needing to go into stasis at night. Nothing awful or dangerous would happen if they didn't. But they accept anyways, declining something humans had _bothered_ to give them instead of letting them sleep on the streets like dogs had seemed rude.

As they're dropped off in front of the silver doors to their current 5 day home, Connor closes the car's door and grabs his bags as he stares up at the unceasingly large building, his chocolate eyes eventually settling on the tip of the hotel's roof, for a moment standing there, eyes squinting in sun before following behind Markus through the doors.

The hotel smells faintly of cinnamon as he walks through it, climbing the three small steps that led into the lobby. The aquarium near reception fills him with a sense of longing as he thinks of Dog, which in turn only makes him think of Sumo. He hoped they were happy even with his absence.

The woman behind the counter was moca skined crimson haired, android that, upon seeing the two of them, smiled as they grabbed the keys from her and headed into their suite.

Whatever human had arranged this, definitely chose to go all out to insure their comfort. It felt... reassuring. For the days that would come.

Minus the lack of two beds.

It wasn't a _problem,_  they didn't even n _eed_ the bed. If they did need to share it, comfort and space wasn't a factor that mattered, stasis was more deep than a regular human's sleep cycle. And the only benefit stasis brought was a slight refreshed feeling. Neither would disturb the other in the night, unless they meant to. It didn't bother him.

They drop their bags onto the floor, unpacking in silence.

For the next few hours Markus passes through at various points in their room, making visits to various people and making sure things are going to plan as Connor stares at the tiles of the ceiling, using this time to let himself be encased in his own thoughts.

Without a light on, save for the lamp he's chosen to keep on near the bed, as the day progresses the room dims, he ends up fading into stasis until a soft click of the door and the returning footsteps of Markus bring him back into reality.

"Sorry, did I disturb you?" He asks, head turned to him as he momentarily looks out the window that exposed the glittering lights of Washington at night.

Connor sits up, wandering to a side of Markus near the window. "No, you're fine. I wasn't deep very deep in stasis."

Washington at night was breathtaking, as his eyes flicked to various buildings, the lights blending into each other. Distantly, a plane flew overhead.

"Nice view." Markus remarks, glancing at him. His LED shines a thoughtful yellow.

"I can't believe we got a treatment like this. I was expecting..."

"A cold reception?" Markus finishes for him. "As was I, with luck, in the coming month all androids might be treated with this level of respect. RA9 knows deserve it, after everything."

Connor hums. "I'm sorry I almost prevented it."

Markus's eyes flick to his. "Don't tell me you're still putting so much blame on yourself."

He shakes his head. "No, not anymore. It took a while, but... i'm still sorry for it, though."

A wave of silence falls through the room. Markus raises his arm, pointing to the night sky. "You see that constellation?" He asks. "That's Orion." He says softly as Connor follows his gaze.

It was beautiful. He thought.

Markus points to twinkling star. "And that? That's Saturn."

"Oh." He breathes. He still found it memorizing that you could see these type of things from earth, despite how _big_ everything in the universe felt.

"I love the night sky." Markus states. "It's something precious, something to be cherished. It's something I realized  after becoming deviant."

Connor smiles. "Yes."

They were headed to the peace talks tomorrow, but this moment, however sudden and intimate it felt, made it almost seem light years away.

They stand there gazing at the stars for another minute in companionable silence.

"It's a big day tomorrow." The other man states. "We should rest."

He hums, taking the right side of the bed, as Markus takes the other.

He can feel the android's warmth on his back. It doesn't feel invasive. If anything it feels... right. He doesn't know what that _means_  exactly, but it's welcomed.

"Connor?" Markus asks, cutting through the silence. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

A pause. "Why haven't you gotten rid of you LED yet?"

Oh. _That_ question.

He didn't know, maybe he did and didn't realize it. In a way he... he felt.. like it _belonged_  there.

"I'm not sure. I don't think i'm ready yet. It's like my... my coin in a way."

"Your coin?"

"It isn't relaxing like it is. But it feels like a part of me. I don't think I want to part with it. Not yet." _If ever._

It seems to be a good enough answer, as the other man simply hums in response. And after a minute, he thinks he's fallen into stasis, until he speaks again.

"Hey Connor?"

"Hm?"

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Markus." He answers softly.

He ends up texting North later, informing her of their unfortunate luck of only one bed. To his confusion, she wishes him good luck.

The world feels somehow changed after.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------  
4 .

Sometime in late March, two things happen.

He gets another fish, with his _own_  money this time. He names her Bear.

And then something _changes_ with him and Gavin. Like the universe _shifts._  A metaphorical sigh brings relief to a heavy set of chains, releasing any and everyone.

With the snow melting, and as android are seen no longer as property, or useful tools, things had felt, for once, _peaceful._  And it seemed like things would stay that way. For now at least.

It didn't mean all androids were safe. He understood that. The fact that the Violent Android Crime Investigative Unit he was assigned with Hank to was still alive and well was proof of that. But for the most part they felt truly _free._

He isn't sure how to describe it, other than the air feels less suffocating when their paths cross, Like a symphony of hostility inexplicably _calms._  And plays softly after seven centuries of angry bangs.

He's next to Hank at work one Wednesday, absorbed in the latest assigned case they've recieved, when he spots Gavin from across the building, grey eyes set on him in some indecipherable expression, looking torn.

He doesn't want to go through this today,  he had a case to solve. However as Gavin gets closer, it seems he will be.

The man reaches his desk, shifting on one foot as he looks down at him. "Connor."

He doesn't look up from his work. "Detective Reed." Out of the corner of his eye he sees Hank's eyes flick to them both.

"Can I-" A pause, he sees Gavin bite his lip, hands clenching and unclenching. "I don't know, _talk_  to you?" He asks.

Talk? What _was_  there to talk about. If not for him to spend a minute insulting him?

He shares a look with Hank, searching for any answers the older man could give. He shrugs, arms crossed as he sits further back into his chair. A silent _give it a shot_ in the air.

Against his better judgement, he does. Slowly rising from his chair, logging out of his computer as he follows the brown haired man.

They reach the end of a corner, and Gavin stops, he echos the motion.

"What is this Gavin?" He asks. If it weren't for him bothering to talk to him first, Connor would think he wanted him alone so he could fight him.

"Why'd you push me out of the way last month?"

He blinks. "What?"

Gavin sighs, annoyance crossing his features. "At that bust, why'd you push me? Why take the bullets?"

He frowns. "I wasn't going to just watch you _die_ when I could prevent it. Even despite our differences."

"Yeah but you couldn't of known they wouldn't of hit your ass somewhere fatal for you androids."

Connor nods. "I didn't know where they would hit me. It didn't matter. I didn't want anyone to die."

Gavin stares, confusion crossing his face. "So you, you what, were just _fine_  with fucking dying or some shit?"

He wasn't. He felt utterly _terrified_  at the thought of shutting down. Leaving Hank behind. Never coming home to Sumo or Dog, never listening to music with North again, never going to New Jericho again. And Hank had been sober for a number of weeks. There was the possibility of relapsing in the wake of his _death._  He was terrified of doing that to him. Or to any of his friends. Or _Markus._

"No, but what was the alternative? Not saving your life when I could easily have done so? Bullets are less of a problem for androids, Reed. The statistics of your survival felt slim. You might not of made it."

"What was in it for you, Connor. Really? What did you want to get out of it?" His smile is mocking.

Get out of it?

 _Get_ out of it?

"The relief of knowing I prevented a senseless death?" He tries.

Gavin is silent for a moment. He seems thoughtful.  "Anderson said I should talk to you. Actually I was already thinking of that. Then you and your android friend or whatever left for two weeks. Didn't really get a chance."

"Hank wanted you to... speak to me?"

"Yeah but he isn't my fucking _boss._ I didn't have to come here."

"At your... place of work?"

Gavin pinches the bridge of his nose. "You know what I fucking mean, look-" He breaks off, tapping his foot and sighing. "I've been a grade A scumbag to you since the moment you first came in here. Everyone fucking knows that."

"Yes." He simply says.

"You don't like me, i've made your life hell. It would of been * _so_ * easy to let a bullet lodge itself in my goddamn skull. But you... you didn't. You risked your life for an android hating bastard like me. When I can't even say 100% i'd of done the same for you."

Life. It felt weird coming from him. It was the first time he used the word in relation with Connor. Like he was _alive_ to even lead one.

"What are you trying to say, Gavin?"

Gavin inhales, and for the first time since he first saw him. His face is covered in sincerity. "I'm saying... thank you. Thanks, Connor."

That felt strange to hear from Gavin too. At least directed towards him.

"And this isn't because I think I owe you or anything," He begins. "If bullets start flying at you you're going to have to deal with that yourself. I'm not _dying_ for some android that treats most bullet wounds like a punch in the arm."

"Understandable."

"And... shit, I don't.. we aren't friends. I don't think I _ever_  can see that shit happening. But," He starts. "maybe we don't gotta be enemies."

It's touching, actually. He's struggling through this, Connor sees it. But he thinks he means it.

"I could see us as friends, detective." He says. "Someday."

He could. One day. Maybe if their relationship became less of a hassle to deal with. Less of an effort to get through. Less strained. Less hostility. There were many things to get past first, but it wasn't _impossible._

"Seriously?" Gavin raises an eyebrow, his tone is incredulous.

He shrugs.

"Yeah, well. See you around then, Connor." He waves a hand in his general direction before disappearing down a corridor.

He heads back to his own desk, glancing at Hank as he sits.

"How'd it go kid?" He asks.

"You told Gavin to talk to me?" He questions, tilting his head as he logs back in his computer.

" _Told_ is a kind word. But, shit. You took a bullet for the fucker. Felt he could at least thank you for it."

He gives a small smile. "I appreciate it, Lieutenant."

"Hank."

"Sure."

He chuckles at the man's groan of frustration, returning to his work.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------  
5 .

He doesn't understand what he's feeling.

Not that he ever _does_ to be fair.

He's noticed it before, whatever _it_  was. But around June it's gradually gotten _bigger_ and more _defined._  Like cheekbones. He doesn't _understand_  it but it's _there_  and it surrounds his being like ice. there's so much he _feels._

There's so much if it, he couldn't ignore it any longer if he tried.

It's what he feels when he looks at Markus. The way his breath felt caught in his throat as Markus guided his arm to track stars in Washington. The overwhelming _desire_ for him to retake his arm. The rush he felt when Markus's hands brush up against his when they move past each other in a small space. Or when he looks at him, smiling a smile that felt as if the _sun_ radiated on it.

Whatever _this_  was, this, consuming, _loud_ feeling. He's never felt it before. He's sure of it. It's utterly _new._

He's at New Jericho, spectating a meeting over increasing their medical care, when he makes a suggestion. Markus looks at him, smiling. He praises it.

North gives him a look, smirking. He doesn't understand why. All he did was _talk._

He thinks back to the night in D.C., how pleased she sounded when he told her they were sharing a bed. Her wishing him luck.

What did North... mean? What was... good luck, meant to mean, exactly?

He stares at her, maybe longer than socially acceptable, frowning.

The meeting ends, and he manages to gently guide her to an empty room, her confused eyes staring at the back of his neck.

"You gonna tell me what's up?" She asks.

"What... what did you, _mean_ by good luck?"

She squints. "What?"

"In Washington. When Markus and I went in February. You said, 'good luck." He exhales. "What did that.. mean?"

Her face forms a smile. "I think you know."

He _really_  didn't.

"You know," She starts. "one small bed, just you and him.."

Oh. Was.. was she was referring to...

"I had no plans of having sexual intercourse with Markus, North!" He says quickly, flustered.

It was the truth, he didn't plan on it. Sex was not something he thought about. He doesn't think he _feels_  that way towards anyone. In that sense. He just... wasn't wired that way, he guessed.

"Oh. Well you may not want to _bed_ him, which, by the way, totally fine, people have to be _blind_  to not notice the way you two look at each other. You aren't even _aware_ of it are you? Total heart eyes."

"Heart eyes?" He asks. He stared at Markus like anyone else. At least he thinks. He _liked_ looking at him.

"You know, love!"

Love. He loved Hank, and Sumo. And his fish. He loved most of New Jericho.

"Of course I love Markus, North. I love you all." His _friends._

"I mean the _love_  love. The romantic kind."

Romance. He had never thought much about that either.

"You think I... am _in_  love with Markus?" He asks.

"You might be! I don't know. I'm not you. All I know," North explains. "is the way you two look at each other is the looks I kept slipping my girlfriend before we both got our heads out our asses and _talked_ about it."

"You have a girlfriend?" He asks. He didn't know North was even _with_  anyone.

"Yeah, I think you've met her, she works here as an android technician. But, this isn't about _my_  love life."

"How do you know if.. you l _ove_  someone then?" He asks.

North bites her lip. "I think only _you_  can answer that. But I think you can."

He sighs.

"I think you have some self introspection to do, Connor. But, I hope you figure out whatever it is you're feeling. You deserve to find someone."

He.. he could figure things out. He always did. He sorted out what he felt eventually. In the end.

But how was he _supposed_  to _know_ how he felt? He had nothing to base that type of love off of.

He wanted to be around Markus as much as possible, if that helped. He felt like a home. And the way his eyes shined when he laughed made Connor's heart flip.

Most people he found nice to look at. In an attractiveness sense. _People._ were nice to look at.

He wanted air.

He swims through the overflowing crowds in New Jericho as he pushes the doors open, the June air fresh and inviting.

This was another thing to find out about his identity. Which he was _already_  figuring out. The sun shines on him as he breathes in.

When he thought about romance, he thought about things he saw others do. Clasping each others hands, planting a kiss on anothers waiting lips, holding them as you slept together in bed. _Loving_  them. Completely.

Sometimes he felt lonely. Like he wanted something, or someone. In those moments he thought of doing those things. Somebody's lips on his. Maybe they could stay there.

He sees a possibility of him doing that with anyone. With Markus in his thoughts the most.

Markus had been stuck inside his head for _months._ A song that stayed.

He heads home. He attempts to get out of his own head the walk home as the summer heat nips at him. He's not very successful. He thinks about Markus's lips halfway home.

He gently turns the knob, shutting the door as Sumo comes barreling into him, reaching down to pet the large mass of fur and eyes.

Hank is on the couch, idly watching a show he vaguely remembers seeing before. He walks towards the couch, plopping down with a badly concealed sigh.

Hank glances at him. "Something wrong?" He asks.

He shrugs. "I don't know. North thinks I am in love with Markus."

"Well are you?"

"What?"

"Son, do * _you_ * think you're in love with Markus?"

He's silent. "How do you... _know_  if you're in love with someone..?"

Hanks looks at him thoughtfully, before grabbing the remote, pressing mute.

"Well, I guess you gotta know who you like first. Who you think about kissing. Or doing _more_ with."

"I don't want to do _more_  with anyone." He interjects.

Hank shrugs. "So you could be asexual then. Perfectly fine."

Asexual. The definition felt... it felt like.. _him._  It seemed to fit.

"I think I might be." He says simply.

"That's good kid, do you think you feel romantic attraction?" He asks.

He does. At least he thinks.

"I do. Sometimes I think about somebody kissing me. Or holding my hand." He says.

"Any gender in particular in these imagines?"

He thinks. Only when he imagined Markus's lips on his.

"No."

"Then shit, you could be bi, or pan, whatever label you like. Or no label if you want. I sure as shit don't want any."

It sounds freeing, not choosing _one_ label for his feelings. Though he thinks 'biromantic' is the most fitting.

"Sometimes I think about kissing Markus." He blurts out. "Most of the time, actually."

"That sounds like you like him in more ways than just a friend way, Connor."

Yes. It definitely _did._

"Oh."

"Look, I want you to know, son. Whatever happens, whatever you end up deciding to do about these feelings. How you _feel,_ i'm here for you. And, if you happen to tell him how you feel, he'd be a little bitch not to like you back."

"Markus is not a little bitch."

"Yeah, right _now."_

He runs a hand on his face. "I'm going to call him, I think."

Hank ruffles a hand through his hair. "Go get 'em kid."

His room, since Hank had cleared most of Cole's stuff from it in April, was a plethora of things that he felt radiated _him_ energy. Like the posters of his favorite band, or his sea of cookbooks.

He paces, for only a minute despite how much longer it feels.

He calls him.

He picks up after two rings. "Connor?"

"North says i'm in love with you." He blurts.

He mentally curses himself. Why did he start with _that?_

"Oh. Uh, what do _you_ think then?" He asks.

He fidgets with the edges of his coin. "I agree." He says softly.

There's seven moments of silence in which Connor thinks he's ruined his friendship with the man forever.

"That makes three of us, then."

He smiles, a wide one. Not held back. He doesn't believe what he's hearing.

"Oh. _Oh._  That's..."

"May I come over?" He asks.

If possible, his grin grows even farther.


End file.
